


Inked Petals

by Bnig98JR



Category: Original Work
Genre: Albinism, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Because I suck at romance, Eventual Romance, Fist Fights, Florists, Gay, Help, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Kinda, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance, Romantic Comedy, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 21:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14577732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bnig98JR/pseuds/Bnig98JR
Summary: Geno had led a normal life as a somewhat famous tattoo artist. But he soon found his daily life rather repetetive,and only surrounded his work. Perhaps it was time for a change?Well, maybe, once he figured out whoever that was sending flowers to his doorstep daily.-------------This is supposed to be romance even though it comes in way later oopsCallie Presson, Razein Presson, Steven Presson, and Deon Presson belong to C-ALAXY on DeviantArtGeno Lin, Gordon Lin, Alex Lin, Manchi, Dylan Synder, Cynthia Harrow, and Benjamin Cyter belong to me (Bnig98JR)This fic will be submitted to royalroadl.com





	1. Every Day

Every day, he would walk past the florist at seven in the morning, trying to catch a glimpse of the owner before he turned into the dark alleyway right next to it. He would then travel up a narrow flight of stairs to front of his tattoo parlour. 

He never successfully caught sight of their face, at most catching a glimpse of brown locks hidden behind the towering rows of flowers that filled the small shop. He usually never saw them at all. He would love to just casually stroll in, buy some flowers, maybe invite the owner to grab a coffee as well.

To be frank, the last part would be a little hard to achieve. Not just because of the impression he would give from the tattoos that littered his arms, but it would also be rather difficult for someone like him to casually have a chat. Luck just wasn’t on his side that much.

He shook his head, snapping him back to reality.  _ “Stop daydreaming, Geno. You have to prepare the studio before the first customer arrives.”   _ Taking out a bunch of keys from his pocket, he bent down to unlock the door and went inside, the bell jangling as he did so. He headed to the back, shoving his bag into a locker. He made sure that it was inaccessible to anyone but him, having learnt his lesson after a customer tried to rob him. Geno proceeded to pull off his beanie and stuffed it in his pockets, and grabbed the tattoo machine along with his schedule book that lay on a counter nearby. 

Sitting down and flipping it open, he scanned the pages for today’s customers. Looks like he’ll be having a busy day as always. Being skilled at his job had its pros and cons, as he rarely had the chance to close the parlour earlier than ten, long after the florist had gone home. Then again, he had a job with stable income despite his serious disadvantage, which he considered a miracle. Yet, he’d love to have the time to pop over next door and meet his neighbour for once.

_ “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Geno. Get a grip on yourself.”  _ He sighed heavily and took out his phone, scrolling through his gallery for the finalized design he had made for the oncoming customer. He would do anything, anything to get that florist off his mind. 

He found it rather bothering, in fact

\------

Finally, the last customer of the day waved as she headed back out, sporting a brand new tattoo on her shoulder. He yawned and stretched out his aching arms, relieved to be free from work at last. 

Taking off the surgical gloves and disposing of them properly, he made short work of cleaning up the studio. 

As soon as he was done, he retrieved his bag and pulled the beanie back on to hide his locks from plain sight. He already didn’t like it when people stared at him, and his condition only made it worse. He quickly closed the studio, turning out the lights and making sure the door was firmly locked. 

As he took the subway home, he found himself thinking of the florist again. This was getting ridiculously out of hand. He mentally slapped himself as he groaned, pressing his face against the window. Thank god the compartment was practically empty this late at night, saving him from the embarrassment of catching other passenger’s attention. He tried to focus on the bright city lights below him, anything to get that florist out of his head. 

Was he really that desperate for company? He had his brothers, nephew, sister-in-law, ever so many family members to talk to, yet he still felt incomplete. Did he want a girlfriend? Someone to hold?

Looks like he was starting to ramble again, though he did give that possibility a second thought. Perhaps constantly having to reject customers when they asked him out was a reason why he had never considered dating. He was far too busy to focus on anything else that had no connection to his job. 

Maybe it was time for him to be more open and go on dates, meet some girls…

Now that he had put his mind to it, he didn’t really seem to be interested in girls that much.  Sure, they could be pretty and kind-hearted. Otherwise there was nothing he found appealing about them. He didn't find them attractive, whether it be in a sexual or a romantic way. Was he attracted to men? Or none at all? He sighed again, and pressed his face harder against the window.

Perhaps he could try freeing up his schedule a little and lessen his workload  for the sake of getting more free time. Maybe then he could finally have a chance to meet his neighbour of two years.

His train of thought was interrupted by the voice over the intercom, signalling he was at his stop. Oh well. He got off quickly, not wanting to walk the long way home. 

The cool autumn air ruffled his jacket, making him shiver. Looks like it was getting colder, and winter was approaching. It wouldn’t be long until his youngest brother, Alex, would start to exclusively wear hoodies. The occurrence brought dismay to him and his dad’s fiance, Razein.

It often resulted in the two dragging the unfashionable young man to the department store for more acceptable clothing, though the positive results were only temporary, mostly because he would sneak them into his older brother, Gordon’s closet. It would lead to the two squabbling for weeks. But that was fine, they were happy. That’s all that matters. 

Geno soon found himself before his apartment door, instinctively taking out his keys to unlock it and went in. He sighed heavily as the fresh scent of lavender hit him. 

Home, sweet home. 


	2. Something To Think About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *PTSD may not be accurately portrayed, I apologise.

He collapsed onto the couch, utterly exhausted. Tattooing people was a draining activity, having to focus all day on a drawing that you can’t mess up. Normally, he would be looking forward to another day at the studio. Yet after the train ride, it only seemed to be an annoyance that stopped him from having a relatively normal social life. 

Blankly staring at the ceiling, he lost himself in his thoughts, the idea of cutting down his workload played over and over in his head. It was tempting to do so, but he was uncertain of the consequences. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he hated the feeling. He sighed and buried his face in a cushion. He was probably just tired. Yeah, that must be it. 

Slowly getting up, he grabbed a fresh change of clothes along with a towel from his bedroom and headed over to the bathroom. A hot shower would help him clear his mind and let him relax. 

He stripped down, taking a moment to run his fingers along the scars on his chest, then stepped into the shower. The hot water ran down his pale, toned figure, tracing the inked patterns of curling stems and dainty petals on his arms. They served as the only barrier between his line of sight and the scars left from those shackles, the ones that bound him in an endless darkness for centuries. 

He blinked, frowning as memories came flooding back. He didn’t want to remember how those years of isolation had broken him, how he had constantly dreamt of the worst nightmares one could ever have, how they made his mind crumble torturously slow all alone. 

Before he realised, tears started to flow down his cheeks to join the hot water. Stifling a sob as best as he could, he turned his attention to cleaning himself instead. At least, he tried to. He hadn’t been aware of his hands that were violently trembling in fear and losing all strength that they had left. He couldn’t help but let it all out, sobs wracking his body as he sat down and curled up into a fetal position. He was left unable to do anything else but to relive those memories.

\------

The next morning, Geno halfheartedly dragged himself to work, failing to catch sight of a pair of lavender eyes peering out from the arrays of flowers. He was too disgruntled to even be bothered to look due to barely getting a wink of sleep the night before. He got himself ready for the first customer as usual, but nearly tripped over something sitting in front of the door.

He looked down, and saw a bouquet of colourful flowers. It consisted of lavender roses,delicate and flawless; Lillies, soft and fragrant; Red carnations, that symbolised admiration; Gardenias, that represented hidden love. Huh, that’s a weird combination. He bent down to pick it up, and found a small card that read ‘To Geno, from S. Presson’ 

Presson? Wasn’t that Razein’s last name? That’s odd. He picked it up and carried it inside anyway, deciding to leave the thinking for later. 

——

That night, he stared at the card, the flowers put in a vase on the table. He wondered who the mystery flower sender was, surprised that someone would actually give him flowers. The handwriting on the card was unfamiliar, and was definitely not Razein’s, Deon’s, nor Callie’s. How strange. 

He continued to ponder about the sender, until sleep overcame him. 

——

Over the course of a few weeks, more and more bouquets appeared in front of his studio, accompanied by the same card. Occasionally there was a cheesy poem on it too. The flowers, he discovered, all represented love or admiration one way or another. That was truly odd. He didn’t really think he would be worth the time and money to be sent so many flowers, which only puzzled him as much as the sender’s identity. He couldn’t stop thinking about them. What did they look like? He spend his time on the train daydreaming, imagining the person’s face, how they smiled, how they laughed…

He felt rather ashamed to admit it. He was becoming obsessed with this mystery person he had never seen or heard of, and he was acting like a lovesick fool. Of course, his change of behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by his relatives, and was often teased about it. He merely shrugged and went back to daydreaming. The only time he wasn’t thinking about them was when he was working, which he found relief in. 

——-

The flowers continued to be sent to his front door for several months, which Geno had ended up filling his flat with. They were everywhere. The place soon resembling more like a garden than someone’s living quarters. He didn’t mind, though. It made the place seem more lively.

 

It was a Saturday, when he could finally take a short break. He lazily rolled over in bed and scrolled through his messages. Looks like the family would be having dinner at dad’s place, which obviously meant that Razein would be cooking. Everyone enjoyed his cooking, being proficient in almost every kind of dish. Geno yawned and got out of bed, heading over to the bathroom to wash his face. He then proceeded to make oatmeal, one of the only foods he could eat with ease. He missed eating normally. But there was nothing he could do about it.


	3. Just A Saturday Afternoon

He continued with his usual routine, cleaning the house and doing the laundry, though he would go to thinking about the mysterious person every now and then. He glanced at his watch. One thirty, time for lunch. He went outside, wrapping his coat around him tighter as the cool air made his cheeks numb. He had been wanting to try the new cafe that opened last week, it seemed to be rather popular.

By the time he had arrived, lunch hour had passed. He was able to find a seat with no trouble. After an awkward encounter while he was taking his order, he leaned back to look around the room. It was dimly lit with light bulbs in fake oil lanterns and had 70’s music playing in the background, giving the place a timely atmosphere. He pulled out his sketchbook to finish up a design for a client while he was waiting. 

Instead, he found himself doodling all over a blank page of some person he had made up in his head. Goodness, he was really getting carried away with that person. Too carried away. He felt his cheeks heat up, and buried his face in his hands. Now he was getting flustered over a person he didn’t know, great. 

“Uh, sir? Here’s your meal.” 

He looked up to the waiter that was serving him. 

“My apologies.”

He put away his things to allow space for the plate to be put in front of him. He tipped the waiter and proceeded to thank them.

He focused on his plate of curry rice. It smelled wonderful, though he knew he’d never know how it would taste like. Better dig in, he thought.

\----------

He ended up spending the rest of the afternoon walking around the city center, looking through the various shops that it provided. He did find a few books that were of interest, though. 

Other than that, he spent the day aimlessly wandering the city, then took a stroll through the park. It was near dusk by then, the sun taking on a shade of vermillion as it began it’s slow descent below the horizon. The sky was coloured in gold, the clouds stained a peachy hue. 

On the contrary, the ground below was trapped in a chaotic swarm of pigeons and others birds that battled for a place in the trees to roost. No wonder the parents had evacuated the park with their children, fearing for their safety. Had it not been for his brothers regularly keeping his reflexes in check, he would have succumbed to the feathery storm before he could register the situation. He managed to navigate through the flock of birds, reaching the center of the park, where an artificial lake had been built. There were a couple of families that remained in the area, that most probably came from the other entrance, where it was less...lively. 

A group of rough-looking teenagers crowded together on the other side of the lake, separated from the rest of the people, with only a wide wooden bridge connecting the two ends of the shore. They seemed rather threatening, though he could see they wouldn’t put up that well in a fight even with their large numbers. They were just teenagers after all. 

He stepped onto the bridge, which immediately drew the attention of said group of teenagers, crowding around their end of the bridge as he walked across, glaring at him. He merely shrugged, stopping when he reached the middle. The young man leaned over the glass railing, watching the fish swim around aimlessly. It was a pointless activity, sure, but it helped to pass the time. 

He felt the beanie beginning to slip off, and reached up to pull it back on. But it popped off anyway, exposing tousled white hair. Shoot. Scrambling to cover up, he hadn’t noticed that he put his beanie on inside out in a panic. But that didn’t matter anymore to him, only wanting to avoid being seen. 

He looked around and sighed in relief, consoled by the fact everyone had been too busy to notice. No one had spotted the boy with albinism. 

He was okay.


	4. Maybe This Was A Bad Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slurs, violence

Geno felt a finger tap on his shoulder, and turned to see the owner. It was one of the teenagers from the empty side of the lake.

“Yer that G...geno Lin tattoo guy, ain’tcha?”

He was quite surprised to be recognised by someone, but nodded. The teenager’s expression immediately changed to excitement.

“I...can ah’ get yer autograph?”

The boy held out a piece of paper and a pen, which he signed. He was rather flattered.

“Me sister is a fan of yer work, ya see, she got real inspired after ‘ah showed her. Got her outta her depression. It helped her a lot, yannow?”

The teen chuckled. Geno was only getting more and more surprised. He had never  seen his work as inspirational or anything more than just a way he could express himself.

“But anyway, thanks, mate.”

The boy waved and went back to join his group, leaving him alone on the bridge again. That was an odd encounter. He was interrupted from his thoughts yet again when a droplet of water landed on his shoulder. And another. And another.

Then the heavens opened, and a shower of rain cascaded from above. Good thing he had his umbrella, opening it to protect him from the rain. On one side, the families that had remained in the park left in a hurry, while the group of teenagers on the other opened their own umbrellas, rushing past him. All except for one.

The boy that had asked for his autograph just a few minutes ago remained under the tree, pulling his hoodie over his head. He walked over to him, sheltering the two from the rain. He pulled out his phone to type in “Do you mind if I walk you back home?” and showed it to him.

“But...ain’t that gonna waste yer time?”

Geno merely gave him a look that said _I insist_ , the boy hesitating for a moment before agreeing.

The two walked through the city, past people rushing back home or towards the nearest cover they could find, past the roads packed with cars, past the shopping malls with their LED signs piercing through the gloomy sky. All the way they walked, until they were far from the most bustling parts of the city.

The streets were dirty, covered in various pieces of rubbish carelessly thrown aside. The roads were empty, gigantic potholes present in the asphalt that could double as ponds. A dim, flickering lamp post was the only source of light in the darkening streets, long abandoned by authorities.

“Welcome to the slums, ah guess.”

The teen, who had introduced himself as Dylan muttered half-heartedly. Geno looked around, thrown off by the serious deterioration in the abandoned factories, the crumbling buildings that may have once been schools or housing. It was already an unbelievable sight in the dim light, what would it look like in full daylight?

 _Horrible_ , he thought to himself. How could they abandon this place? Money, he supposed, was a large contributing factor. Unequal distribution of funding had resulted in such a difference between the urban ring and the outermost ring, having set their priorities on developing the city rather than improving the already existing area. But it was how the world worked, and it was useless to resist.

They walked further into the slums, disappearing into the darkness. There was a soft click, and light pooled in front of them from a flashlight the boy had pulled out. Guess people in the slums still had a way to navigate the streets in the dark without proper lamp posts. The rain still hadn’t lessened, pouring down on the vandalised concrete, pooling into worn down parts.

“Almost there.”

They took a left, past an abandoned seesaw in the overgrown remains of a playground. Dylan seemed to be getting rather nervous, as if anticipating something bad, the flashlight trembled with unease. They passed by a long block of row houses, most probably home a number of factory workers in the past. But now, with the workers gone, new residents had moved in, too poor to afford a flat in the city. Dim light streamed from cracked, grimy windows, indicating which room was occupied. Even without any maintenance, a surprisingly large number of rooms were still in good enough condition to provide shelter.

All of a sudden, Dylan came a stop, prompting Geno to stop as well. The patter of a puddle being stepped in could be heard from behind them.

They were being followed.

The teen took a deep breath, then continued walking with caution, keeping at a steady pace. He slipped a hand into his pocket, taking out a small pocket knife. Glancing at Geno, he was surprised to see his unfazed, calm expression. He would look back through the corner of his eye every now and then, but was otherwise not showing any fear.

 

Another set of footsteps were heard coming around the corner, just as their stalker from behind started to catch up with them. He knew too well who those footsteps belonged to, quietly regretting his decision to accept Geno’s offer to help. Now both of them were at risk of a heavy beating.

 

“Sup, f*ggot? Bringing a customer home to blow him for a dollar, eh?”

 

That familiar voice jeered, throwing insults at him as usual. He learned not to talk back from previous experiences, knowing that would only increase his chances of getting his face kicked in. He felt himself getting shoved from behind, making him stumble forward, nearly falling had he not been caught by Geno. He looked up at the person’s face, glaring furiously.

 

The person who had made his life a living hell was grinning down at him, amused at how inferior and weak he was in comparison. The thug stood at a height of six foot two, while he barely reached his shoulder. He’d never stand a chance against him in a fistfight, even without his companion.

“What?” he taunted, “Cat got’cher tongue? Or are ya crying for yer mommy to save ya? Boo hoo, your deaf old woman ain’t hearing you unless yer gonna do that with hand signals.”

He scoffed, stepping closer to the two. Dylan bit down on his tongue to force himself from making any remarks, though it was clear that he was agitated by those words.

“By the way,”

He leaned down to be at eye level with the boy.

“I heard yer momma was a whore, fucking guys for cash until she had you. I wonder if yer sister’s gonna follow in her footsteps, I’d love to see her slutty face.”

That did it. He threw himself at the other, screaming and swearing. His blows were easily sidestepped, and was slammed hard against the wall with a crack. It knocked the wind out of him, and probably broke a few ribs, but he crawled back up anyway.

He tried to attack again, but Geno decided against it, and pressed his hand against the boy’s forehead. He felt his energy leave him, and his vision faded to black.

The last thing the boy saw was Geno turning to face their attacker.


	5. Oops, I Did It Again

Geno caught the unconscious teenager, setting him down on the pavement. He turned to face the bully, tilting his head as he observed. He was tall and heavily built, but lacked proper stance. 

Taking him down would be very, very easy.

“Bouta piss yerself?”

He sneered, the shorter man was just as easy to take out. Or so he thought. Pride was his weakness, and it would be his downfall. Geno moved quickly, taking him out at the legs which he had not braced. 

He lost his balance along with his pride, falling face first into a puddle. Huh, that was unexpectedly quick. He would’ve thought the taller boy would weight more. Guess he was wrong.

He barely had time to react when a fist swung at him from behind, for he had neglected to focus on the other thug that had been following him before, whoops. He stumbled foward, but managed to grab them by the arm, swinging them over his shoulder in a judo throw. 

The bully had just started to recover, but was unfortunately smashed back to earth by his fallen companion in a heap. 

“Gerroff me, you fucking idiot!”

The bully was enraged at his humiliating defeat, throwing his friend aside and jumping to his feet. He took out a bowie knife, swinging it at Geno wildly. But he was ready. He grabbed him by the wrist, disarming him with a twist of the hand. 

_ How pathetic, I should’ve just torn his heart out. He doesn’t deserve to live anyway. _

He frowned, clearing his mind of those thoughts. He had promised himself not to give in to blatant murder, and he wouldn’t do it for the world. 

He remembered how it felt so good, so pleasing when the blood splattered everywhere after slitting someone’s throat, yes. But he couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t afford to lose his humanity again. 

Well, he’d have to threaten him sufficiently anyway. He pulled the bully down, a hand gripping on his head with another on his chin. He turned his head so he was staring straight into his eyes. 

_ “If you do not leave him alone, I can, and I will, break your neck right here.” _

The teenager and his companion’s eyes widened, paleing in fear. His mouth wasn’t moving, yet they could hear his voice, loud and clear. They nodded frantically. Geno furrowed his brow and gripped on him tighter. His blue eyes disappeared, leaving only white sclera.

_ “Don’t you dare play games with me, otherwise I will come back here and find you. I won’t be so lenient next time.”  _

The bully screamed in terror, wrenching himself out of his grasp as soon as Geno loosened his grip, bolting down the street with his lackey far behind. Good riddance. 

He picked up the umbrella he had dropped, walking over to the unconscious boy. He held a hand over his chest, focusing his willpower on it. Thin, white lines traced themselves up his fingers, glowing softly in the dim light. The lines left his fingertips, seeping into the fabric of Dylan’s jacket.

Bones mended, moving back into place. Bruises faded from the skin, and  were replaced by the rosiness of his cheeks. His eyes fluttered open, then he gasped, sitting up and looking about frantically. 

“Wh-where did he go?” 

Geno merely shrugged, pulling the boy to his feet. They continued walking, reaching the end of another block of row houses. 

“Well, this is where ah live. Thanks fer the help, sir”

Dylan bowed, and went inside, leaving Geno on the sidewalk. His job here was done. He turned, and headed back where he came, unaware of the pricking sensation in his forearm. 

He was too busy focusing on the fact he was late for dinner to even notice, running through the torrential downpour which only grew heavier by the second. Time was too precious to waste, and he couldn’t afford to miss the last train. 

By some miracle, he made it onto the train, squeezing into one of the seats. The compartment was packed, filled with youngsters hanging out late, tired adults returning home from work, and families heading home after a long day.  

Half the compartment gawked at him, much to his discomfort and dislike. He didn't understand why they were doing so. He managed to bear it until he finally reached his stop, getting off as quickly as possible. 

By the time he had arrived at Benjamin’s place, he was half an hour late. He sighed deeply as he walked through the door, crashing on the couch. The whole room stared at him.

“Geno, your arm…”

He turned to look at his right arm. Oh. So that’s what they had been staring at.

Seems like he hadn’t cleanly dodged the bully’s attack, as there was a five-inch long gash along his forearm. Blood was running down his fingers, staining the carpet beneath. 

Alex retrieved a first aid kit from the cupboard and began patching him up. 

“Tell us what happened, by the way.”

Geno nodded and began retelling the past events telepathically. He had no tongue for him to speak after what had happened to him, nor could he use his hands to sign in his current state.

He wished he could talk again.

Gordon frowned, grunting in annoyance. It didn’t take long to finish stitching the wound up, just enough for him to finish telling his story.

“That was fun.”

Alex mumbed sarcastically, wiping away the excess blood. Callie, his wife, poked her head through the kitchen door. 

“Dinner?” 

The group agreed, some heading over to the dining table, while the others went to the kitchen to help out. 

\----

After the meal, they gathered in the living room, chatting and exchanging information about recent events.

“I brought a bunch of dogs to Allie’s workplace!-”

“Without my permission or at least telling me beforeha-”

“You jumped onto the table, then the bookshelf!”

The room erupted in laughter, while the poor boy whined in embarrassment. They all knew Alex was not very fond of canines, and his reactions to them were  _ priceless _ . 

Geno hadn’t been listening, busying himself in daydreaming about the mysterious flower sender, again. He was staring dreamily into the distance, a small smile on his face. 

Gordon noticed his strange behaviour, and tapped him on the shoulder, then waved a hand in his face. 

“Earth to Geno Lin?”

He snapped back to reality, blinking rapidly and turning to look at his brother. 

“You okay, G? Are you sick?” 

Geno raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

_ “I’m good, why do you ask?”  _

“You don’t usually daydream?”

Oh, that. He tried to think of an excuse, but was interrupted by a familiar voice, followed by a sudden weight on his shoulders. 

“Geno’s in looooovveeee?”

Manchi, Alex’s buddy, had thrown herself around his shoulders, chanting in a singsong voice. Well, she wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t do anything to defend himself but blush. 

“Who? Whoo??"

Manchi shrieked in excitement. Geno blushed harder, shaking his head. He covered his face with his hands, flustered and embarrassed. He couldn’t tell them he had been charmed by a person he had never met, could he?

He stood up to shake Manchi off, but was instead greeted by a sharp pain in the ribs. Gasping in pain, he was forced to sit back down again. He hadn’t expected the rebound from healing Dylan to come this quickly. 

“Geno, you okay?”

His breathing became laboured as he gasped for air, sweat pricking on his forehead. He was overcome by nausea, the floor rushing up to meet him as his vision went black. 

Manchi caught the man from smashing his skull into the floor, just as the further cracking of bones could be heard. The whole room gasped and sprung forwards to help.

“So, are you two gonna take him to the hospital?”

“Of course.”

“Why wouldn’t we be taking this idiot to the hospital,  _ again _ ?”

Gordon and Alex rushed over to their brother, the former carrying him in his arms with ease, while the latter ran to grab the car keys. 

As the sound of the engine faded in the distance, Razein turned to Benjamin.

“Are you sure you can trust Alex with the car?”

"They won't die, at least."

"At least?"

Just then, the doorbell rang. Razein raised a brow and rose to open the door, only to be greeted by a tight hug.

“Long time no see,big bro!” He cheered. It was Steven, his dear younger brother. It's been a while since he saw the boy, surely he missed his enthusiasm.   
Razein gave out a chuckle, and patted him on the back. He had probably worked an extra day again, usually due to bouquet orders.

“I missed you too, brother.” He said with a smile. "What bri-"

“Say, where’s Geno?” Steven asked as he looked up to him, still not letting go. The question made Razein pause, should he tell him what happened?

"You don't usually talk to him, though. Why do you ask?"

"Pleeeeeaaaaaase?" The boy begged. Steven even gave him his best puppy eyes, which were effective every time. Damn those puppy eyes. It caught Razein off guard, taken aback from it. He had to counter it somehow.

"He left early, that's all."

Steven tilted his head and stared at him for a moment. He noticed the hesitation, before narrowing his eyes.

"Are you lying, brother?" He asked. Razein only looked away for a moment, before letting out a defeated sigh.

“He's... on his way to the hospital.”


End file.
